Chapter 3
Aspara picked up a wooden spoon.
The bread, despite being made from white wheat, had an unusually poor texture. Still, once she soaked it in the hot porridge, it became edible.
After finishing the silent meal, Aspara followed Jack’s gestures and motions as he guided her to the private room where she would be staying from now on.
Once she entered the room with the blazing brazier and changed her clothes, warmth finally returned to her body.
“Come to think of it, those barbarians didn’t even change their clothes before eating.”
“Isn’t that normal?” Jack replied. “Honestly, I was more surprised seeing you change clothes every single time before a meal, Miss.”
“So you don’t?”
“It wears the fabric out!”
Jack grumbled.
He had never been a knight serving nobles at close quarters—he had only been a low-ranking soldier—so he had always lacked proper manners.
Fortunately, Aspara wasn’t particularly concerned with authority and didn’t bother picking a fight over his attitude. Even if she had been displeased, there was little she could do about it now.
Still, Jack wasn’t being disrespectful because he looked down on his young mistress’s situation.
He was simply rude by nature.
“Do you have any family here to greet the lord? I heard your parents have already passed away.”
“Not really. This isn’t a farming region, so people don’t have many children.”
“Hmm…”
The new bride pondered deeply.
What should I do…?
Aspara’s greatest concern was ensuring her own safety.
First, there was the matter of staying safe from that barbarian husband of hers.
Second, there was protecting herself from whatever schemes her family might attempt against her again.
Her second elder brother had even placed an informant beside her, clearly expecting that she would sharpen her blade here and someday return home seeking revenge.
But Aspara didn’t possess even the tiniest spark of vengeance.
If anything, she was simply happy to have escaped to a land of fishermen and hunters, where there was no room for political intrigue.
Her siblings back home had absolutely nothing to fear.
If only I could show them that I intend to live quietly here…
The northern sun set early.
The room quickly fell into darkness. Lying on the bed with her arms crossed, Aspara thought,
“…Don’t tell me I’m sleeping alone?”
Jack, her escort knight, had already left with one of the servants to another room.
The gloomy chamber contained only the new bride.
Remembering the black lord’s stern expression throughout the day, Aspara frowned.
Is he planning to leave me alone on our wedding night?
In truth, however, this was merely Gus’s awkward way of showing consideration.
Originally, Gus had looked forward to this night with great anticipation.
To help his bride from the warm south relax and enjoy a sweet first night together, he had even obtained red flowers—a rare luxury in the north—to decorate the room.
He had hunted countless migratory birds and stuffed their feathers into the blankets to make them soft and comfortable.
The night before her arrival, he had been so excited that he couldn’t sleep.
But the moment he saw the tiny bride shivering inside the carriage, he realized…
This isn’t right.
Though the southern people called him the King of the Barbarians, Gus himself was simply an inexperienced bachelor who believed in the northern tradition of marrying for love.
His conscience—even one stained black by the blood of countless enemies—would never allow him to force himself upon a frightened woman trembling in an unfamiliar land.
If that person were to hear of this… they would probably call me a hypocrite—a beast who stole a marriage by force…
His chest tightened once again.
I… am still human.
So Gus gave Aspara the largest room—the one originally intended as their shared bedroom—and decided to spend the night in a guest room on the same floor.
Unaware of this, Aspara remained sprawled across the bed like a corpse.
When the sun had fully set and the insects of the night began to sing, she suddenly sat upright.
She glared at the innocent bedroom door, which remained stubbornly silent.
A moment later…
Creak.
The door opened.
Aspara stepped out.
Wearing a robe over her nightgown, she walked through the quiet hallway without a single servant in sight.
This feels less like a castle and more like a rather large inn, she thought.
There were no guards stationed outside her room, so no one stopped—or accompanied—her midnight stroll.
With her feet chilled from the cold stone corridor, Aspara stopped before the largest door on the floor.
She knocked twice.
“…Who?”
A low voice answered from inside.
Aspara had learned a few basic words of the northern language.
She recognized the word for “who.”
So he’s asking who it is.
“I’m Aspara Bell.”
A loud crash came from inside the room before everything fell silent again.
Several seconds later, the door slowly opened.
Gus stood there looking completely flustered.
Because his shoulders were exceptionally broad—even for a northerner—the much shorter Aspara failed to notice that he had put his cloak on backwards in his panic.
“Is it customary here to leave the bride alone on the first night?”
Gus blinked in confusion.
Aspara sat down on the bed and patted the empty space beside her.
“What are you doing? Weren’t you taught what a wife is for?”
Gus only stared at her blankly.
What is wrong with this man?
Aspara narrowed her eyes at her younger husband.
This was a political marriage.
At this point, there was only one thing left to do.
Even if they couldn’t understand each other’s words, surely he understood that.
After all, reproduction and the instincts surrounding it were things even wild dogs that had never known parents understood naturally.
Growing impatient, Aspara slipped off her outer robe and her slip in one smooth motion.
“W-W-W-WAIT! N-NO…! PLEASE…!!”
Bang!
Aspara blinked in surprise.
Her brand-new husband had abandoned her on the bed and fled the room.
“Hmm… hmm.”
The bride, rejected on her wedding night, merely nodded to herself without looking particularly hurt.
“So… he already has another woman.”
She folded her arms and spent some time thinking.
“Or perhaps… he prefers men.”
After pondering for a while, Aspara decided that, since her exposed shoulders were getting cold, she would simply wrap herself in the blanket and sleep in her husband’s bed.
Once again, she was left alone in the bedroom.
Only this time, it was an even darker one.
If anyone saw me now, I’d look exactly like the tragic heroine of some melodrama.
She stretched her stiff shoulders after the long carriage journey.
Then again, the real tragic protagonist is probably the young man who was living a successful life until an older wife he can’t even communicate with suddenly appeared.
For a brief moment, the princess imagined that giant, dark-skinned man standing beneath a spotlight like the hero of a tragedy, shedding crystal-clear tears.
The image suited him so poorly that she couldn’t help laughing.
Well… I suppose anyone would be startled.
Throughout her first night in the cold north, sleep never came.
Instead, Aspara organized her plans for the future.
As she thought everything through, she became increasingly convinced of one theory.
He must have a lover hidden somewhere.
If only we could speak the same language, I’d just tell him to be honest about it. This is only a political marriage anyway. Once we’ve produced an heir, would any concubine really dare challenge the king over an outsider like me?
To Aspara, that was perfectly reasonable.
In the noble society where she had been raised, marriage existed above all to produce heirs.
Naturally, that was the first explanation that came to her mind.
The only question is… who is she?
Since it would look awkward to return to her own room now, Aspara spent the rest of the night lying in her husband’s bed, worrying herself to sleep.
The nights in the north were long, but morning always came in the end.
When Aspara awoke, she stretched and, for the first time in a long while, arranged her own hair and clothing.
Just as she finally finished tidying herself, someone spoke outside the heavy door.
The unfamiliar northern language echoed through the wood.
So this is what human speech sounds like when you can’t understand a single word, she thought.
No different from the cries of birds.
The realization made her acutely aware that she was in a foreign land.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re saying. Please bring Jack. Or better yet, hire another servant who speaks the southern language.”
Click.
The door swung open.
Standing in the hallway was a curly-haired young servant, holding a bundle of papers.
She remembered seeing him briefly yesterday.
He had been one of the young attendants in the welcoming party.
“More importantly, I’d like to change clothes. My large travel bag is in my room. Bring it here, and call a few maidservants.”
Aspara spoke slowly while gesturing calmly toward her dress and hair, as though believing that speaking slowly would somehow help the foreign servant understand.
Whether he actually understood or not was impossible to tell.
The young man bowed respectfully before backing away.
Remarkably polite for a barbarian, Aspara thought.
The moment the door closed—
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The sound of someone sprinting down the hallway echoed through the castle.
Several minutes later, another knock came at the door.
This time it followed the familiar southern custom.
It was Jack.
“Come in.”
“It’s time for breakfast, Miss. They say they’re going to show you around the castle today… I think.”
Somehow, the message had gotten through.
In his hands were the honey-colored clothes and gloves he had taken from Aspara’s luggage.
